Midnight is where the day begins.

No matter what the situation is, crossing a line either takes a lot of courage, blind impulse, desperation, a calculative mind or a combination of all four. When a boundary is crossed, there's usually a very good reason for it; Clint had to get the Firefox from the Russians, Mario had to save Peach, Spock had to sacrifice himself, Gwen had to die for editorial reasons and Dubya had to invade because of that pesky insatiable thirst for oil.

It comes down to how much you're willing to give and what you're willing to do in order to cross that hypothetical line. And whether or not you get what you want. However, I still don't believe in 'calculated' risks.

I don't usually walk around carrying high expectations, nor do I carry lowered expectations. I simply don't care, because nonchalance won't get me into trouble. But on a rare occasion, something comes along and I come alive. Not like a firecracker; but like an atom bomb.

I'm easily excitable, as is everybody else. But it takes a lot to retain, maintain and contain that excitement, much less twist and tease it to ginormous proportions. It plays with my mind. It drives me on incessantly.

It's terrifying when that does happen, because it offers the perfect justification for flagrant line-crossing. I would know. I've done it before. And so have you. All of you. We're all guilty. So why bother feeling it?

Maybe this is all a way to compensate for my wasted, sad youth that was spent mulling away at how bad a hand I'd been dealt. But there are some lines that we'd all be willing to cross because whatever is on the other side is worth it. Very much so.

Would it bring about a crisis of faith? Maybe.

But nonetheless, I feel better now.

Thank you.